


Friendlock X 3

by VincentMeoblinn



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal, Asexual Sherlock, Biting, Bonding, Lactation Kink, M/M, Marking, Mating, Omega Verse, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is injured and Sherlock goes feral, refusing to let anyone near him… except for Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friendlock X 3

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jaeh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaeh/gifts).



 

 

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John checked the clock on the wall. Again. He had to hand it to him, when Sherlock Holmes did anything he really set the bar high for the rest of society, and apparently that included ‘immovable feral Alpha’. All because John had been shot.

 

 

Well… grazed, really, but Sherlock had only seen John reel away from the shooter after the gun went off and smelled blood. After that he went feral, killed the offending Beta shooter, chased/herded John into a corner, and refused to be placated. He’d even pissed in a semi-circle around him to ward off the other Alphas, of which NSY was completely full. The shooter was no big loss; he’d managed to smuggle a gun into NSY by working for the janitorial staff and his intention had been to shoot up the entire floor starting with John. Even Sherlock going feral wasn’t a huge issue, it happened to Alphas all the time when an Omega was in danger. The big problem was that John couldn’t seem to turn off the distressed scent coming off of his body and the result was a floor full of aroused Alphas and one inconsolable Alpha in the form of Sherlock Holmes.

They’d tried to bring in Beta paramedics to treat John’s injuries, but even those safe individuals Sherlock refused to allow near. John theorized that it was because his attacker had been a Beta. Instead they’d slid a first aid kit to John (Sherlock had pounced on it and stomped on it before deeming it safe and allowing John to use it) and encouraged him to let Sherlock tend the wound. The result was the world’s only consulting detective licking his wound clean before leaving John to bandage it. The disinfectant properties in Alpha saliva were triggered when an Omega or a cub was injured, so infection was unlikely, but John would still have liked to have it washed with something besides funny smelling _spit_.

Their second attempt to free him had been with a tranquilizer, but Mycroft had showed up and put a halt to that, claiming that it could cause Sherlock to fall off the wagon. That had been four hours ago and even Mycroft hadn’t been able to calm Sherlock down in the mean time. Which meant they were rounding out the sixth hour of John being basically held hostage in NSY by a snarling, growling, violent Sherlock Holmes who was too mad with hormones to listen to reason but still ridiculously capable when it came to hand-to-hand combat.

The third attempt had caused quite the uproar when Mycroft casually suggested that John present himself for sex in order to soothe the Alpha in Sherlock into realizing there was no danger. Dimmock and Gregson had shouted angrily about Omega Rights.

“If he –ahem- _relieves_ his tension he should come out of his feral state naturally,” Mycroft pointed out.

John had cut that argument short by dropping his trousers and presenting his arse to Sherlock for mounting. He’d been ignored. That was when he’d noticed that Sherlock was only half hard. He was the only Alpha near John who wasn’t fully erect in an instinctive need to posture for dominance and he was the one _closest_ to him. He was simply out-dominating them all without even trying. Which left John standing about without his trousers on because there was no point in even trying to get the saturated clothes back on him since all the pheromones floating around had some rather uncomfortable reactions for _John_ as well as the Alphas around him. He was responding to their protective arousal and posturing by positively _drenching_ his trousers with lubricant. He hadn’t been this wet outside of a heat since… well, ever. They’d had to roll him a water cooler bottle (Sherlock had only smacked at that rather than outright attack it) to keep him hydrated! It was half empty!!

John was just suggesting that they tranquilize _him_ somehow, hoping that it would calm Sherlock down if the troubled Omega was asleep, when Lestrade strolled in while whistling merrily. Sherlock’s eyes locked on the DI and he stopped growling instantly. The group of onlookers all stared at Lestrade in shock while he glanced around him in confusion. He’d just come on duty. Apparently no one had warned him. His sources may have failed him, but his senses did not. He caught a whiff of John and his eyes flashed angrily.

“John?” Lestrade spoke sharply, his tone dangerous, “What the hell is going on? Who’s threatened you?”

“The dead guy who used to be behind that evidence marker over there,” John replied, “I can’t calm myself down and Sherlock has lost his damn mind. Think you can get him to back off? Everyone else has tried and failed.”

Lestrade was crossing the floor quickly and the lead on the case they’d been investigating stepped in to stop him.

“He’ll kill you!” Dimmock protested.

“Like hell he will,” Lestrade scoffed, shoving him off, “Are you hurt?”

“No,” John lied easily, “I just can’t get my damn body under control with all these worried Alphas around. You’ll need a whole new carpet by the time this is done with.”

Lestrade gave John an easy grin and he felt himself relax marginally. Nothing tensed him up like his best friend and flatmate being upset, but Lestrade was a ruffled-feather-soother and had known Sherlock longer than John had. Sherlock’s head whipped around when Lestrade got closer, looking back and forth between the two of them as Lestrade walked slowly but purposefully forward. He didn’t raise his hands or try to look submissive, he just casually strolled forward at a relaxed rate until he was standing in front of John. The Omega looked up at the grinning Alpha and then started to try to stand, but a growl from Sherlock stopped him in his tracks.

“Come off it, Sherlock,” Lestrade sighed, eyes still on John and erection prominent, “He’s fine. Just let him up.”

No response. Sherlock was still feral. John sighed and settled back down with a shrug. Lestrade shook his head and held out a hand, stubbornly telling John to stand. John’s hand curled in the rough, sturdy grip of the Alpha and he was pulled to his feet where he wobbled from the rush of blood to his legs. His ass was pins and needles. He hadn’t known ones ass could fall asleep.

“You okay?” Lestrade asked, his voice gruff from hormone induced arousal.

“Yeah, fine,” John replied.

Sherlock roared in outrage and stormed over to them, knocking John flat on his arse and then pinning him to the ground while kneeling above his head. Lestrade let it happen but moved in quickly to figure out how to extricate John again.

“What the actual _fuck_?!” John ranted, having instinctively not fought back against the Alpha reeking of protective scent.

“Sherlock, really,” Lestrade sighed, rubbing between his eyes in frustration.

Sherlock scrambled over John’s body, treating him to a close up of his clothed arse that John hadn’t really wanted. Once he was basically sitting on John’s chest he grabbed his legs and arranged them how he wanted them. Splayed. Wide. Offering himself for breeding… to Lestrade?

Sherlock’s fingers invaded John’s wet, sensitive areas, scooping up fluids ripe with musky scent. He stood and headed over to Lestrade where he smeared those fluids around his mouth while Lestrade stared at him in apparent shock before grabbing Sherlock’s wrist and sucking the substance off of two of his fingers. Sherlock eased back once released and took up his position kneeling by John’s head. Lestrade’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated with desire, and he was panting a bit.

“Greg?” John asked, his own arousal spiking as his body insisted that mating was imminent. John licked his lips and the scent of anxious Omega spiked considerably. Sherlock clawed at his hair in frustration and keened, rocking back and forth on his heels in misery.

“He wants me to satisfy you,” Greg supplied, “He can’t do it so he’s found someone he trusts.”

“What? Why? What’s that got to do with my safety?”

“It doesn’t. It has to do with you smelling distressed. He’s stuck in a feral state and he needs you to stop inducing it every time his brain tries to cycle out. For the same reason we used to offer sex to Alphas who were feral, an Omega who doesn’t feel safe can relax once an Alpha proves they can care for their needs. I can try getting you food…”

“Not hungry,” John replied instantly, his eyes trying to communicate his true wishes, “Just do it. It’s not like I’m not willing and ready.”

Greg pried his eyes up from John’s dripping backside to meet the Omega’s eyes searchingly, “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m on birth control. I’m clean. I’m your friend. I’m good with this.”

“Same… except the birth control bit,” Greg grinned easily.

Then he undid his trousers and kicked them off before approaching John and kneeling between his spread legs. He loosened his tie, tossed it aside, and undid a few buttons on his shirt before pulling it over his head.

“You mind if your shirt comes off? I prefer my partners- even the impulsive ones- fully naked. I’m kinda a hopeless romantic like that.”

John grinned and tugged first his jumper and then his vest over his head. Lestrade took the jumper and folded it up to prop beneath John’s hips. He wasn’t bothered; the damn thing was ruined at this point anyway. John grinned eagerly as he took in the sight of Lestrade’s cock, purpled at the head with strain and a slight upward curve. It had been ages since he’d had an Alpha cock inside of him and his body was literally aching in anticipation.

“Gods, you smell so good,” Greg panted, leaning over him and capturing his lips hungrily.

John moaned and arched his spine. He was surprised at how much his body was responding to someone he’d never considered an option until now. Above him Sherlock was making encouraging noises and Greg moved down his jaw and towards his neck where he lapped teasingly at John’s bonding mark. John gasped and writhed beneath him, wrapping his legs around Greg’s hips and grinding up to rub their cocks together.

“Mmm,” Greg agreed, and then slid down, disengaging that wonderful friction, and glanced up at John questioningly as he paused above his nipples.

John’s eyes widened, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He absolutely loved having his tits suckled, but he was a chronic lactate producer, something that lots of Alphas found repulsive despite the fact it was an indicator of high fertility. Before he could warn Lestrade that he’d get a mouthful of milk if he latched on he felt the ache of a let-down reflex and milk budded up onto both nipples. Greg’s eyes turned hungry and he took John’s blatant arousal as consent to swoop in and start suckling. John’s head fell back onto the floor with a thump and he writhed as he felt a stream of milk exit his sensitive buds and fill the Alphas mouth.

John moaned and writhed, aware that his unlatched nipple was spraying milk into the air but unable to do anything about it. An anxious glance around him showed eager Alphas licking their chops or stroking their cocks and he could smell the moment his distress peaked. Sherlock growled angrily and stood up to chase off the Alphas inching closer as they lusted after the couple on the floor.

“Don’t look at them,” Greg growled, releasing his nipple and letting it spray him as he crawled back up John’s body, “Look at me. I’m the one on top of you. It’s my cock you’ll be clenching when you come.”

John moaned, and if it sounded suspiciously like ‘Greg’ he had good reason. The man decided not to delay further despite his obvious longing to spend more time enjoying John’s body. He reached down to test John’s elasticity, found his body soaked and tented, and lined himself up to push inside John’s body. John hissed in pain as the massive cock stretched his entrance. Greg gave him a moment to adjust after taking in his sensitive head and then slid the rest of the way in. John sighed at the full feeling and draped his arms around Greg’s neck as pleasure thrummed through his body.

Greg paused to catch his breath as his body throbbed with ardour. It had been _years_ since he’d been with an Omega and months since he’d been with anyone else. His senses were on overdrive, his body frantic to knot the Omega despite the fact his knot wasn’t fully swollen yet. He eased back while making sure his angle was true, and then pressed inside once more, bumping at the sealed entrance to his womb. John groaned and his legs flew around Greg’s body again, his heels digging into his arse in a surprising show of flexibility for a man his age. Greg grinned and began to pump into him at a steady pace as his mind relaxed into their sudden situation. Nearby an Alpha climaxed and he growled possessively even as his knot swelled painfully fast from the scent of a competitor. His body was recognizing the threat of the aroused Alphas around him and demanding he knot the Omega beneath him quickly.

John’s left hand tangled in Greg’s hair while the other touched anyplace he could reach. He could hear and smell the Alphas around him and they were driving his senses mad. He knew what had happened now. It had been too long since he’d been with an Alpha, too long since he last felt safe and possessed. Sherlock and he were friends, true, but the Alpha was practically dormant in Sherlock. He couldn’t give John the sense of permanency that a thick knot filling his body could, even if that was only a superficial sort of safe feeling and just as likely to end the next morning rather than leading to a bonding.

_A bonding_.

John’s body writhed as his hormones latched onto that idea and the gland at his neck began to put out scent to attract a mate. A _permanent_ mate; or as permanent as a mate could be in a world that had invented a chemical way to break that bond. The Alphas nearby sounded their eagerness to be the one to fill John full of cubs and Lestrade knotted him hard enough to tear a scream of pleasure and pain from John’s mouth. He clawed at Lestrade’s back and bucked his hips to grind the knot into his p-spot as his cock sprayed out his release between them. Greg moaned in bliss and then swore as he pulsed out hot seed into John’s tight hole. Then his angle adjusted and John felt the moment his vaginal opening slid apart as a Mock Heat kicked on. John shouted in shock, his body having not gone through _these_ motions in ages due to all the chemicals the army had given him to prevent it happening on the battlefield. Greg let out a shout of triumph and arched his hips to press the tip of his cock into that grasping maw inside John’s body. The head fit perfectly inside, as it was designed to, and John’s internal lips clamped down around it as if it were another knot.

John’s eyes rolled back in his head and Greg moaned out obscenities, sounds of heated pleasure, and a battery of praises. John’s cock spurted between them once more and Greg rolled his hips as he chased his final release, his bollocks pressed so firmly against John’s arse that he could feel every single soft hair stimulating them. Finally his body tensed and he felt himself pulsing- not just into John’s body, but into the depths of his womb. John’s body suckled his cockhead like a skilled mouth, rendering him a gasping wreck, his back arched and his head was thrown back as pleasure cascaded through him. John was clawing his chest, then flicking his nipples, then squeezing his own to spray milk over Greg’s upper torso in a strange display of Omega marking.

Speaking of marking.

Greg let out a possessive growl and dove down, mating teeth exposed, to sink them into the gland on John’s neck. The Omega moaned his approval and rubbed his little cock against Greg’s abdomen before coming spectacularly and going limp beneath him. Greg paused once he’d finished ejecting his own solution into John’s body and then grasped his head and pressed John’s mouth to his own mating gland.

“Come on, Johnny,” Greg pleaded, giving his limp lover a little shake in the hopes that he wasn’t responding due to exhaustion rather than an unwillingness to bond, “I swear, I won’t make you stop hanging about with Sherlock. Hell, I _want_ you to. The two of you complete me, let me complete you too.”

There was a tense few moments as John’s Mock Heat ebbed away and the Omega still didn’t react. If he didn’t pierce Greg’s gland with his teeth and inject his own fluids into him their bodies wouldn’t unite. Greg’s injection would be fought off by John’s white blood cells as a foreign invader. He’d have a three day fever and the mark would fade away like so much blood on a sidewalk, the loss of all Greg’s secret fantasies forgotten like a dead hooker.

Then John whimpered, his arms came up and wrapped around Greg’s shoulders, and he nuzzled the bonding gland.

“Yes,” Greg groaned, “That’s it, beautiful. Let me love you.”

“Greg,” John whispered against his neck, and then sank his teeth in.

Greg all but sobbed in relief, lowering their bodies into a sleeping pose as he rolled on his side. Sherlock was purring above them, apparently content that his demands had been met. He curled up as if to sleep as well, snuggling against John’s back and starting to snore almost immediately.

“Crisis over,” Anderson sighed, “A good show, though.”

“Pervert,” Gregson grunted, tucking his cock back into his clothes. It would be hours before his damn knot softened.

Mycroft texted Anthea to send him the footage of the successful mating so he could masturbate to it later. He wasn’t about to do so in front of these horny _goldfish_.

“Congratulations on your bonding John, Greg,” Mycroft murmured before heading out to see to more important matters.

“Cheers,” Greg muttered, nuzzling his lover.

“I wonder what’s up with the freak,” Anderson wondered, “Why can’t he get it up? Think he’s secretly a Beta? Or impotent?”

“He’s publicly asexual, actually,” Sherlock announced, sitting up and giving him an aggravated glare, “I’m perfectly capable of getting an erection, but I’m rarely attracted to anyone; certainly not _John_. And if you incompetent morons had thought to _leave the damn room_ none of this would have happened!”

“Thanks incompetent morons!” John chirped, snuggling into Greg’s chest.

“Shut _up_!” Sherlock snapped, “I’m trying to _sleep_!”

Greg chuckled and petted the blonde and grey hair lovingly. They had a lot to discuss. He didn’t want to cramp John and Sherlock’s bromance, which he recognized as so platonic that even his Alpha instincts were unthreatened by the asexual detective. He’d have to at least move close by, if not _into_ Baker Street. He was sure John wanted his space still, so sharing a bed with him would probably only be an occasional thing, their odd sleeping schedules aside. Perhaps Mrs. Hudson had another bedroom in her flat? The two of them could start their own friendmance and debate the horrors and joys of Sherlock Holmes while fussing over John Watson.

Greg wasn’t allowed to stay sleeping on the floor, of course. In short order Donovan arrived for their shift together and raised holy hell. He had a workday to start, so he extricated himself from John’s tight heat, tenderly dressed his lover, and sent him home with Sherlock fussing over him and demanding tea in turns.  They’d go home, crash, and meet up with him after his shift was over to debate the future of their now more tight knit lives. Sherlock would be impossible, John would make him compromise, and Greg would reward him with a thorough fucking. Or maybe he’d eat that gorgeous arse out… hmmm, the possibilities. 


End file.
